Freedom to Love

Freedom to Love

“For you were called for freedom, brothers. But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love.”– Galatians 5:13 (NABRE)

Our culture says many things about freedom. It says freedom is the ability to do anything we want. It says freedom is acting on our own selfish desires no matter how it affects others. It says that if we are not allowed to act on every impulse, then we are not truly free.

But as Catholics, we have a different definition. Freedom is the ability to do what we ought. It is knowing the right thing and choosing to do it, no matter the cost to us. It is controlling our sin-corrupted desires and surrendering to what God wants, not what we want.

At the heart, we can’t have love if we don’t have freedom—and vice versa. Freedom is a condition of love, but if we don’t choose to love, we’re not really free. If we want to be truly free—and say no to being enslaved to all the passing power, wealth, and pleasure the world offers us—we must have a deeper yes: the yes to love God and love others as He loves.

And God’s love isn’t the fleeting, pleasure-driven feeling the culture defines it as. God’s love is the nitty-gritty, self-giving, all-the-way-to-the-Cross kind of love. God’s love means sacrifice. . . so that’s how we are called to love: by serving others and sacrificing our own desires and selves to do so.

Because freedom means love, and love means sacrifice.

So, this Lent, how will you choose freedom over slavery? How will you choose to love God and love how He loves? What sacrifices will you make?

© Isabelle Wood 2025

Edited by Gabriella Batel

Balancing in Thin Air

Balancing in Thin Air

If you’ve never experienced vertigo, be thankful. It is unpleasant to say the least. Over the last few years, I’ve been grappling with recurring bouts of vestibular neuritis, a fancy word for damage to the inner ear system, causing severe spinning, dizziness, nausea, motion sensitivity, and loss of balance. New life phase, new challenge.

Before vertigo, I floundered to manage work and family responsibilities; before that, it was life as a newlywed, life in college, and high school days. Well, you get the picture. When my resources were spread thin and it seemed there was no air to breathe, finding spiritual equilibrium became even more critical than regaining physical balance.

Two lessons from my father gave me a better perspective during times of imbalance.

One prayer I learned from him—Lord, let me never stray far from You, but if I start to wander, pull me back—helped me visualize a lifesaving rope tied around my waist. I felt safe knowing that as long as I didn’t cut the rope, God was at the other end and would not let go of me. I didn’t need to walk a tightrope alone. Secondly, one of Daddy’s favorite scriptures helped me imagine that I was one of the birds Matthew spoke of and that God would always take care of me:

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”—Matthew 6:26

I’ve shared this verse many times and eventually wrote the poem below as I considered what it means to be the bird.

Life will always present situations that upset my current balance and sometimes whoosh the air from my lungs. When I remember these simple lessons from my father, attend Mass, and receive the sacraments, I find that I’m not suffocating anymore. I stand steady and straight. I can breathe again.

 

Become the Bird

by Paula Veloso Babadi

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. . . ”—Matthew 6:26

 

When air is thin

breathe out

breathe in.

 

Breathe in

beauty

and truth.

Breathe out

despair

and fear.

 

Into thin air

disperse

your sighs,

and

out of thin air

become the bird.

 

Copyright 2025 Paula Veloso Babadi

Edited by Gabriella Batel

Sign that says: Fear Not I am the one that helps you

Vital Sign

Vital Sign

 

The LORD will give you a sign. – Isaiah 38:7 (GNT)

 

It was a September Sunday morning at 2 a.m. when I descended the hospital elevator and stepped out through sliding glass doors. Walking to the nearby corner, I bought coffee at the 24-hour convenience store. The warm cup soothed my palm as I continued around the block, taking comforting sips of the hot liquid. It seemed surreal that only a week ago Dad had been living his full, active life.

A woman stood on the opposite sidewalk tossing pebbles up against a second story window, trying to awaken the sleeper inside.There was a sleeper inside of me resisting all this change. What was I going to do with Mom and how could I manage everything on top of my own full life? I told Dad years ago that if he went first, I’d keep Mom at home where she was comfortable. But was that truly possible?

I rounded the corner and started up Main Street, lined with silent boutiques and artisan coffee shops. Suddenly ahead of me appeared a sign, brightly lit. In bold black letters were the words, FEAR NOT, I AM THE ONE WHO HELPS YOU. Was I dreaming, seeing this sign in the middle of the night? No doubt it was a message from God that He saw me and would help in the coming days. I took a picture, found courage in the moment, and headed back towards the hospital.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us signs–especially in times of desperate need. 

Reflect: What signs of encouragement has the Lord given you along your caregiving road?  Keep a watch this week for evidence of his loving care.

 

The above selection is Entry #8 in Part I: Unexpected Fall of Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey (© 2024, En Route Books and Media)

Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey | En Route Books and Media

Back view of a young woman looking into the sunset.

Offer it Up

Offer it Up

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed.”—1 Peter 4:12–13 (RSVCE)

Lent is approaching soon. As Catholics, it is during Lent—a season of penitence—that we often give up things we enjoy, or take on a little something extra: any little bit of suffering to help train us spiritually.

But sometimes we don’t need to go looking for trials. . . sometimes, trials find us. This is one of the world’s biggest issues with Catholicism: how could a loving God allow good people to go through hardship? The reason the world is so confused, though, is because that is the wrong perspective to have.

Even Jesus suffered while He was on Earth. But Jesus’ Suffering and Death on the Cross weren’t pointless—it was the price it took to win our souls back from the power of darkness and bring us back into the kingdom of light. And because of what Jesus did on that Cross, if we so choose to join our sufferings to His, every little cross Christ hands us can be the price for souls.

God doesn’t call us to pick out our crosses. He calls us to pick them up.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give ourselves little penances, but it does mean we shouldn’t expect that to be the only suffering we ever have to face. And when unexpected and unasked-for trials do arise, we should thank God for the opportunity to help Him save souls. . . and then offer it up.

© Isabelle Wood 2025

Edited by Gabriella Batel

Privacy Act

Privacy Act


By Lisa Livezey


Their faces were turned away, and they did not see their father’s nakedness.
—Genesis 9:23 (RSVCE)


It was a Tuesday evening when I encountered my younger brother in the hospital hallway outside the room where Dad had been admitted the day prior. He approached me, frustrated. “They won’t tell me anything,” he said. “You have to give them permission.” As the person named by Dad to access his medical records, I needed to provide specific names of those who could receive information about Dad’s condition. Stopping at the nurse’s station, I gave approval that my brother’s questions be answered and from then on, he barely left Dad’s bedside.


Adopted by my parents at age four, my brother was thankful for Mom and Dad’s provision of a stable home in time of need and was deeply bonded with Dad. I greatly appreciated his compassionate presence and emotional support at this time.


Entering the hospital room, I noticed Dad had loose pajama pants on beneath his hospital gown. Thus far, he had worn the standard hospital frock— tied at the neck and open down the back. The pants, although less convenient for hospital staff, offered coverage, and I felt a sense of relief at the increased decency. I later learned that my son-in-law insisted on this measure of propriety, advocating for Dad and thus protecting his dignity.


Pray: Thank you, Lord, for privacy measures and the protections they bring—both legal and physical.

Reflect: Think about the safety and comfort that privacy offers when you’re feeling vulnerable. Are there ways to uphold your loved one’s dignity? Ask God for the means and strength.


(^The author’s brother rarely left their father’s bedside during the week “Privacy Act” took place.)
___________________________________________________________
The above selection is Entry #3 in Part I: Unexpected Fall of Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey (© 2024, En Route Books and Media)
Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey | En Route Books and Media
Listen to the audio version of “Privacy Act” read by the author.

Praying with the Saints

Praying with the Saints

“A slice of hope to raise faithful kids.”

This uplifting, ecumenical show uses engaging conversations and fun entertainment reviews to offer positive insights and media resources for families and youth leaders. We discuss current issues that impact young people at home, in school, and in the world today.

In this episode of The Shepherd’s Pie, Antony Barone Kolenc speaks with Belinda Terro Mooney about the spiritual benefits of praying with the saints, especially those who are lesser known or appreciated, and we discuss her book, Pray With Us: A Saint for Every Day.

 

 

Check out other episodes of The Shepherd’s Pie.

 

The Shepherd's Pie: Praying with the Saints


Copyright 2025 Antony Barone Kolenc
Image copyright 2025 Antony Barone Kolenc, all rights reserved.

Announcing Alzheimer’s

Announcing Alzheimer’s

By Lisa Livezey

Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what any day may bring forth.

– Proverbs 27:1 (NAB)

I stopped by my parents’ split-level suburban home for a quick visit and Mom met me at the door. “Lisa, I have ALZHEIMERS!!!!” she pronounced with angst. Dad stood in the background smiling tenderly.

The news was no surprise. In fact, Mom had announced her diagnosis to me three times already.

In a flash moment, I considered Mom’s exemplary life. She was a faithful wife, mother and grandmother, a registered nurse, volunteer librarian, had taken in foster children, kept an immaculate, organized home, and even led Bible studies.  She doted on her grandchildren, who hold happy memories of time spent at “Gigi and Pop’s” house along with weekends camping in the mountains.

Now at age 82, Mom was descending from the mountains and gazing despairingly upon the wilderness of Alzheimer’s disease.  For one so capable, no doubt the future appeared bleak and scary.

Giving her a hug, I said, “Don’t worry, Mom. It’ll be okay.”  Surely God would provide the daily help she needed, just as He had during her more productive years.

I knew Mom was in good hands with Dad’s stabilizing presence beside her. He capably handled Mom’s health issues and certainly would be her continued comfort and guide amidst the changing landscape of her brain.

Lord, Thank you for today. I know not what tomorrow holds, so help me to trust You with the future.

Reflect: Think about loved ones in your life who are experiencing change due to age or illness and offer up a prayer for each one.

 

The author’s parents, Christmas 2016, six months
before “Announcing Alzheimer’s” took place

___________________________________________________________

The above blog piece is the Prologue in Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey (© 2024, En Route Books and Media)

Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey | En Route Books and Media

Listen to the audio version of “Announcing Alzheiemer’s” read by the author.

 

Copyright 2025 Lisa Livezey

Why I Wear a Chapel Veil and an Unexpected Benefit

Why I Wear a Chapel Veil and an Unexpected Benefit

At every Mass and each time I am in a place with Jesus truly present in the Eucharist, I don my chapel veil.

I’ve been wearing a mantilla for just over a year. I’m not the only one in my parish, but we are among the vast minority. Today, canon law doesn’t require women to cover their heads. Yet, though entirely optional, veiling at Mass is a beautiful way to outwardly express your reverence: at its core, wearing a chapel veil is a tangible expression of awe and humility before the Eucharist.

What initially sparked my interest was that the women who wore chapel veils in my parish were the women whom I wanted to be like. I knew some of them personally, and their entire lives bore witness to Christianity. For them, the Faith wasn’t something practiced for an hour on Sundays; their entire lives embodied it.

For months I admired their mantillas from afar, still unsure if I had the confidence to pull one off. I felt nervous about drawing attention to myself. Yet, week after week, I found myself thinking about veiling for Mass.

Thus began the Great Internet Search of 2023. I sought out every article I could find about women wearing mantillas. I read about the history, why the practice stopped, and why women do choose to veil. I learned how it serves as a physical reminder to focus our minds and hearts on the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, fostering a deeper sense of spiritual connection and intimacy with God. In a world filled with distractions, the simple act of covering one’s head can create a sacred space for prayer and contemplation.

I was especially drawn to the fact that veiling means embracing my femininity. Men have never covered their heads. (In fact, the canon law was to uncover their heads, hence the tradition of removing hats when entering a church). Some movements in the secular world espouse that women should do everything the same as men, but the Church (and I) says, “Thank You, God, that men and women are different yet equal in dignity.” I am a beautiful, feminine woman, and wearing a lace veil is overtly embracing that.

I also felt compelled to have a sacred item I only wear for Jesus. I always try to dress up for Mass, but sometimes (particularly on weekdays or during very cold weather) my attire is less than glamorous. As I pilgrimaged around Poland last month, jeans were typical during Mass. Yet every time I stepped into a church, I wore my veil to remind myself in Whose presence I was.

The clincher was that Mary is never depicted without a head covering. This struck me right to the heart. I desire to be like Mary, to follow in her footsteps of faith, helping draw others to Christ. I aim to echo her Fiat throughout my life. Choosing to veil ultimately came down to my desire to be like her.

I took the plunge and haven’t looked back. I felt a little nervous and self-conscious the first time, but that quickly dissipated. I don’t worry about what anyone else thinks because I know my reasons: I seek to please God and detach from the opinions of others. Veiling is automatic for me now. If I do happen to forget my veil, I feel underdressed, regardless of what clothes I’m wearing. 

And now, I recognize a completely unexpected benefit of wearing a veil at Mass. My veil hangs onto my forehead and around my face, creating a little cove just for me. The veil blocks out distractions in my peripheral vision like horses wearing blinders in a parade. When I sit at Mass and gaze at the altar, I don’t see the movements of those around me like I used to. My vision is limited to what—Who—is in front of me. My veil reminds me of what my focus should be on, and helps me keep that focus. An unexpected gift from a simple mantilla.

If you’re discerning wearing a chapel veil, I encourage you to pray about it and listen to how the Holy Spirit is moving in your heart. There is no list of reasons for or against veiling that can compare with hearing the call from within you.

© Maria Riley 2024

What’s Your Name?

What’s Your Name?

“What’s your name?” is probably the easiest question we can answer. The name we are known by. It’s the name our parents gave us, and maybe they put effort into choosing the right one to set us on our life path. In the past, babies were often named after an elder or someone in the Bible. That name was given to them upon their Baptism: their Christian name. Catholics, at Confirmation, take the name of a saint they want to emulate. In modern times, the Sacrament of Baptism, too often, is not a priority or consideration for parents and they choose names that are meant to be historical, inspiring, courageous, regal, or just “different.”

We all have another designation, one far more important and beautiful than any label loving parents can bestow upon us: the name God has given us. ike many of the things He creates, it’s a mystery that we will know one day, but not in this earthly life.

Appellations are important to God. He tells us many times. We see in the first chapter in Genesis how much he loves to title each one of his masterpieces: “God called the light ‘day’ and the darkness he called ‘night’” (Gen. 1:5). And: “God called the dome ‘sky.’” (Gen. 1:8). “God called the dry land ‘earth’ and the basin of water ‘sea’” (Gen. 1:10). The chapter goes on, right down to “… creatures that crawl the earth” and “green plants for food” (Gen. 1:30). A creator who knows us so well, he’s counted the hairs on our head and desires the deepest and most intimate relationship with each of us (cf. Mt. 10:30). Surely, he’s dubbed us individually with names that reflect that longing. In fact, in Isaiah 43:1, the Lord has said, “I have called you by name, and you are mine.”

Our name “… expresses a person’s essence and identity and the meaning of this person’s life,” explains The Catechism of the Catholic Church in article 203. We have well-known examples of God changing names, or giving a variant, to reflect of new mission. Abram became Abraham when God made him the “father of a multitude of nations” (Gen. 17:5). What other names from the Bible might reveal God’s charges for his flock? The apostle Barnabas has, according to Acts 4:36, a name that means “Son of Encouragement” and he was a supporter of Paul (who was still going by Saul at the time) before a skeptical troupe of apostles (cf. 9:27). Michael means “Who is like God?” Nathanael means “God has given.” Joshua to Jesus means Yahweh is salvation (Behind the Name).

Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers of the Diocese of Portland, Oregon addresses an important question we need to consider: are we living a life that is at least attempting to be worthy of a name God would give us?

“Is it ‘parked in front of the television?’ Is it ‘never pray with my spouse?’” He posed the issue in a humorous, yet serious way in his April 20, 2023 reflection on the USCCB website. He links the question of identity with cultural demands to rename and re-identify ourselves, warning of the threat to our eternal salvation by complying with modern social fads rather than God.

What do we want to be? We strive to be diligent employees to achieve raises and promotions; good parents to raise independent children; honest business owners to keep and attract customers. But who do we try to be for God? What does God call us to be? Would our Godly name reflect our greatest strength or perhaps reveal our greatest struggle? It is somewhat ironic that God chose Simon, a man who expertly made a living on an unpredictable, fluid surface, to become Peter―Rock―a sturdy and stalwart foundation on which to build his church. His original name, Simon, means “hearing, listening.” He must have listened intently when God spoke to him to be the one who recognized that the Jesus was the Messiah when all the others missed it.

“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father” (Mt 16:17).

In another bit of irony, Paul means “small or humble” (Behind the Name). Eventually, he was humble unto the Lord, but in his convictions, he was anything but small.

“… every one of us has a mysterious name, expressing our own meaning in the designs of God, even unknown to us here below, and to be revealed beyond this life,” wrote Fr. Hugh Barbour, O. PRAEM.

Until the day we learn God’s special endearment for us, we know we all share this one distinction for which we can strive each moment: Child of God.


Copyright 2024 Mary McWilliams
Images: Pixels.com

New American Bible Revised Edition. New Jersey: Catholic Book Publishing Corp. 2010. St. Joseph medium size edition.
Catechism of the Catholic Church. New York: Doubleday. April 1995. First Image Books Edition.
Behind the Name. https://www.behindthename.com/name
Burke-Sivers, Harold. “Daily Reflection.” 20 April, 2023. United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. https://bible.usccb.org/podcasts/video/2023-04-20-reflection-270
Barbour, Hugh. “Names Written in Stone.” Catholic.com. 23 Aug. 2020

 

audience at CWCL2024

Sanctifying Habits: What is God Asking of Me Today?

Sanctifying Habits: What is God Asking of Me Today?

Habits and routines are such strange things. When I’m establishing them, it feels like dragging a screaming toddler uphill in the snow, and then breaking them is as easy as that same toddler falling asleep in her car seat the minute she’s strapped in. Seriously. I can work for months and months and solidify a productive routine, and the moment that something throws me off, it’s like I’m starting from scratch again.

The crazy thing is that this is true even if I plan and take time for a valid reason. I allow myself a break from writing when I have family vacations or I recognize my need for rest. I am a wife and mom before I’m a writer, and when my family needs me, I let my writing habits fall away.

When I allowed myself some honest silence with Jesus about this, I realized I’m struggling with feelings of inadequacy. I see what other people are doing. I hear about their book launches and new contracts. I watch their reels on social media and see their following count. I read the lives of the saints, and their virtue seems unattainable. I can’t possibly be as amazing as Joan or Faustina or Thérèse. When I see what everyone else is accomplishing, I feel like I’m falling short.

In His mercy, God spoke to me in the silence. He told me that He doesn’t want me to be like Joan or Faustina or Thérèse—because I’m not them. I’m Maria. And He has a special, completely unique mission for me. I can’t possibly be like any of the great saints, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be a great saint in my very own way.

Theodore Roosevelt wisely said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I can’t count the number of times I’ve shared a version of this quote with my kids. It comes out of my mouth in ways like, “Be grateful for what you have”; “If all you think about is what you’re missing out on, you’ll be miserable”; or “Look at what you do have! Focus on that!” Not surprisingly, I don’t have the eloquence of Theodore Roosevelt, but the sentiment is the same.

If only I had the ability to take my own good advice. I can be astonishingly wise when it comes to parenting and remain quite dense when it comes to myself.

Learning about the great saints of our Faith is a joy. Having powerful intercessors in Heaven whom I can call on during my difficult times is an unmatched blessing. Feeling inspired by their willingness to give everything to Christ is, well, inspiring.

Thinking I’m failing in my vocation because my life doesn’t look like theirs? Now that is worthless. A complete waste of time and energy. I heard a priceless gem while listening to The Endow Podcast this week:

God doesn’t recycle.

God is constantly creating anew. Every single snowflake is unique. No two flowers are identical. And no one else in the entire history (or future) of the world had or will have the same soul, experiences, thoughts, ideas, disappointments, relationships, situations, creativity, frustrations, or wonder as me. I’m the one and only me.

God loves me so much He not only created me, but He then continues to give me encounters for my own sanctification. God deeply desires for me to become a great saint, and He knows exactly who I am, what I’m capable of, and what my circumstances are. He calls me today from right where I am.

So today I am composing an imperfect blog post and getting myself back on track. What is God asking of you today?

© Maria Riley 2024

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